


Everybody Leaves

by aralias



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (Big Finish), Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Gen, Jossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-'Girl Who Never Was' (in the middle of Gallifrey series 2), Eight drops by to talk to Romana about how they've both grown (c)older.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Big spoilers for Zagreus, Absolution, The Girl Who Never Was. Minor Gallifrey series 1-2 spoilers. Jossed by the second half of Gallifrey (which I hadn't heard at the time).

“Charley’s gone,” the Doctor says.

Romana doesn’t ask him how he managed to break into her quarters or how he arrived on Gallifrey without alerting the guard or the CIA. Nor does she ask him how he managed to return from the alternate universe he exiled himself to, how long he has been back, or why he didn’t think to inform her. As president she no longer has the time to ask questions to which she knows the answer.

She puts down her cold cream — a useless affectation, she likes the smell more than anything — and sits down next to him, sighs. “Oh, Doctor, I’m sorry.”

He smiles: a small, shallow half-smile. “Well - everybody leaves.”

So, Romana thinks, she left. Well, that’s something at least. ‘Gone’ covers a multitude of sins when used in conjunction with the Doctor’s ex-companions: abandoned, killed, forced out, married, memories erased: his and theirs. Leaving — under whatever circumstances — is actually the best Charlotte Pollard could possibly have hoped for.

“Would you like some tea?” the Doctor continues. He starts pouring before she has answered and smiles up at her. “I took the liberty of making a pot while you were conducting your toilette.”

“Thank you,” Romana says. She sips the tea. It’s dark and strong and certainly not of Gallifreyan origin. The Doctor must have brought it with him. Romana finds herself wondering how long it has been in his pockets. “You could always find her again, you know,” she says.

“Hmm?” the Doctor asks.

“Charley. If she left you, surely you could find her again, in ten or even twenty years, and ask her back.”

“No,” the Doctor says. “No, I don’t think so.”

Because the Doctor is still her friend, though as president she has no friends, Romana asks: “What happened, Doctor?”

The Doctor puts down his tea cup. “It’s a long story. But, because I know your time is precious, Madam President, I can and will summarise. I had another companion. A Eutermesan-”

“C’rizz,” Romana supplies.

“Yes,” the Doctor says. “C’rizz. I’m surprised you knew that, Romana, but, of course,” he says with realisation, "no, of course, the Celestial Intervention Agency have been watching me, haven’t they? It’s funny… I hadn’t even thought about it.”

“You do have a habit of drawing attention to yourself,” Romana says dryly. “Once we were aware you had returned, our agents had to make sure you hadn’t brought the anti-time with you.”

“You could have said hello.”

“As could you,” Romana reminds him. “I’ve been here all this time and you, _clearly_ , have no trouble getting back in whenever you fancy dropping round for tea.”

“Well, the temporal locks around your apartments are a joke,” the Doctor says with cheerful arrogance. “And, as for the transduction barrier, frankly-”

“ _Doctor_ ,” Romana says. “You were telling me about C’rizz.”

“C’rizz died,” the Doctor says, serious again, “and I moved on. Quickly. Too quickly, apparently.”

“And Charley didn’t understand.”

“No. I don’t really understand myself why I did it - why I _do_ it - actually. It doesn’t seem like _me._ I do it to protect myself, I suppose, to stop myself from trying to go back and change things.”

“Then you did what was right for Time,” Romana says.

“I _know,_ ” the Doctor says, “whoever heard of something so ridiculous?” Romana laughs and the Doctor smiles. “Oh, _Romana_. Romana, Romana, Romana. What happened to us?”

“We grew up,” Romana says.

The Doctor snorts and it is, briefly, as if he is himself again, the self she knew: that bright, ridiculous man with his bright, ridiculous scarves. “I didn’t.”

“No,” Romana says with a smile, “you didn’t. But I did.”

“Yes, you’re president of Gallifrey now, aren’t you?” the Doctor asks, as if he has not just broken into the presidential suite to find her. “I like what you’ve done to the old place, by the way: opening the academy up to other species, policies that actually _work_ for a change. I’d hardly know I was on the same planet if it wasn’t for those awful robes.”

Stiffly, Romana says: “I happen to like the robes.”

“So do I,” the Doctor says gently, “but don’t tell anyone.”

He refills her cup and his own and then looks at her, takes in the same face — exactly the same face, she hasn’t even regenerated — that she’d smiled with and laughed with when they were together. Romana knows that the last five hundred years have been remarkably kind to that face, but still - some of the horrors she has endured, and the cares she has now, are marked on it in deep lines around the eyes and the more serious set of her mouth.

“Are you happy?” he asks. It’s a rhetorical question.

“Sometimes,” Romana says anyway. The Doctor gives her a knowing and particularly annoying look, and Romana sighs. “No.”

“Well, come _with_ me then,” the Doctor says, with only the barest hint of desperation behind the offer. “I insist. We’ll - bring down unjust governments, fight the Daleks and the Cybermen and monsters that no one believes in, play tiddlywinks with Lenin and drink exotic cocktails with Queen Phaymxxxi the fortieth…”

“I can’t,” Romana says as he tails off, and she is surprised to find she is as sorry as her voice sounds. “As you say, Doctor, I’m the president of Gallifrey. I have my own unjust government to run. I can hardly go wandering off around the universe on a whim, can I?”

“Now Romana, remember who you’re talking to,” the Doctor says.

“True. But I’m not you, Doctor. And I _am_ doing good here. I know I am. _You_ know I am.”

“I know,” the Doctor says. He drains his tea and stands. “Well, I’d better be off. Daleks to fight, tiddlywinks to tiddle. Or is it wink? I don't suppose it matters really.”

“Doctor,” Romana says as he reaches the door of his TARDIS. “I’m sorry I left.”

The Doctor nods. “So am I. But,” he says with the ghost of a grin, “I know where to find you and you, clearly, know where to find me.”

Romana smiles wryly. “I suppose I’ll see you in two centuries then.”

“It’s a date,” the Doctor promises. “I’ll bring the tea.”


End file.
